A friend of mine has a fairly well-known dad who was a Superior Court judge. He heard an influential case in Washington State that involved a unique sentence. Two 17-year old teens, part of the small Tlingit tribe in southeast Alaska, were found guilty of robbing and severely beating a pizza delivery man. The elders of the Tlingit tribe (pronounced “clink-it”) argued that under their tradition, the defendants should be sentenced to exile on an uninhabited island in the Gulf of Alaska. Hundreds of years ago if a crime such as assault and battery occurred, the guilty party would be isolated for four or more seasons. The convict would have to learn to depend upon himself as an exercise in learning the importance of community – provided that he survived the harsh winter.

My friend’s dad, during the sentencing portion of the case, heard from the tribe. The defendants were struggling with many issues, a primary one substance abuse. The tribe, concerned about the recidivism rate in our penal system, believed re-education of the young men would best be served with four seasons of isolation. Additionally, as restitution, the tribe offered to build a duplex for the plaintiff and pay his medical bills with the income from the rental property; at a later date they would give him both units.

While in college, I prepared to become a lawyer. I thought being friends with a Superior Court judge would be handy. But I found it, instead, rather disappointing. He could not remember any case I asked him about, except for his current docket. It was not that he wouldn’t tell me, it’s that he flat out didn’t remember. I asked why this might be and he said it was partially due to case load and partially a basic brain protection method that he had learned. It’s best to hear and decide a case and then let it go. Otherwise the second guessing after the sentencing phase might drive a judge crazy. I did not understand that when he told me; but now, after some years as a priest, I do understand, and here is why.

One day someone mentioned something to me they’d said in a confession. Although I vividly remembered the meeting, I couldn’t remember the specifics of the confession which were entirely gone from my conscious memory. Ever since that day, I’ve noticed that once a confession is done, and God’s redeeming Grace is announced and received, I forget. An early church theologian wrote that confession blots out our transgressions from God’s memory. It appears that in confession, I share something with God; we both forget what we have heard.

The Episcopal Church does not have confessionals but Episcopal clergy do hear confessions. I’ve heard confessions over a cell phone, through email, on a Facebook chat, and in person at coffee shops, my office, in the church, and once in a grocery store while I was holding a ruby red grapefruit in my left hand; it is interesting that I remember the fruit but not what was confessed. And by the way, the formality or informality of the process does not affect the degree to which the weight of sin is lifted. Experience tells me that when someone decides to confess something, it’s best to handle it right then and there.

We are heading into a busy and hectic season. The Church calendar starts with the beginning of Advent, Sunday December 1. If you are ready to let go of something that has been weighing you down, as we prepare for the birth of Christ, maybe this is the time to start new. Your clergy, Reverends Tolley, Stott, and I, stand ready to listen.

Today a Saint John’s teacher looked at her students as they were preparing for lunch and, after fielding multiple questions that she’s answered 100 times before, said, “Look, just go do what you know you should do.”

I heard Jesus’ words in her statement. There were times Jesus looked at his disciples and gave very specific instructions, such as, “Take nothing on your journey, no bag, no purse, no bread, no money. Eat what they feed you. Stay where they invite you to stay.” At other times, Jesus gave broad instructions: “Go and do likewise… Treat others like you’d like to be treated... Love as you are loved; forgive as you are forgiven.”

A story in today’s headlines is about an atheist who became a believer. Patrick Greene, while a proselytizing atheist, threatened a lawsuit to remove a Nativity scene from in front of a county court house. He later found that he had a progressive eye condition that would eventually rob him of his sight. In an event that probably seems curious to non-believers, because of his illness, he dropped his threats against those who maintained the Nativity scene. In response, members of the Sand Springs Baptist Church showed their Christian kindness by praying for him and raising the thousands of dollars Greene needed for eye surgery. Because of their kindness, and their willingness to pray for someone many would consider an enemy, Patrick became a believer. The church had done what they knew they should be doing.

There is more to the story. Mr. Greene purchased a star to go on top of a Christmas tree and also wrote to the Freedom From Religion Foundation disputing their legal arguments against the Nativity scene. Internet rumors that Patrick has since rescinded his belief are circulating but that is not important to me. What makes this story come alive to this priest is the fact that a group of Christians did what we do best – they forgave and prayed.

This story was a breath of fresh air compared to how Christianity has been treated in the news lately. I am enthused when Christians act Christian. Stories of another Baptist church in Kansas that holds up vulgar signs at funerals of soldiers turn my stomach. Such things get the attention of the media.

But as the old hymn goes, “They’ll know we are Christians by our love," not by how often we are in the media spot light. The love that Christians can show is generally not noticed by most people. Yet, person by person, act of love by act of love, doing what we know we should be doing – those things define the Jesus movement in the 21 century.

Early Tuesday morning I said a hurried goodbye to my 27-year old daughter, Galina, as she was walking into the airport terminal. She was catching a flight back to her home near Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, where her husband, Alan, is stationed. I don’t know when I will see her again.

For those of you who got to meet her this past Sunday, you may have noticed that she’s pregnant. She’s having a girl whose name is Zoe. Looking forward to being a parent is quite a change for Galina, as it is for all who are called to be parents. But it’s a change for me, too.

During her visit, we looked at old photos. Some were from the Russian orphanage. Most were from twelve years ago, when she first came to be with us in the States. I had not looked at those photos in years. It was a good journey down memory lane that made me remember the blessings of her adoption. An international adoption of older children is no cake walk –for the parents or for the kids. There were times we all experienced deep and internalized stress, followed by months and months of miscommunication, and additional seasons of doubt and worry. As we read in Ecclesiastes, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens." The photos were all of happy times. Just the way I’d like to remember them.

Being a first-time mommy is no cake walk, either. Someday, maybe in another 27 years, Galina might have a similar trip down memory lane with Zoe while looking at baby pictures together. Maybe Zoe will be pregnant then and Galina will be preparing to be a babushka. I hope they will see smiling, happy photos just like I did this week, and forget the miscommunication, doubt, stress and worry that come with being a parent or the child of a first-time mommy.

I learn a lot about God’s relationship with us by being a parent and grandparent. As parents, we get to see someone grow and mature. Some parents even get to see generations grow. The eye of God can see such things from the beginning of time – as we were formed in the womb all the way through to life after death. God sees great times and times of miscommunication and is with us during seasons of doubt and worry. Yet, when was the last time I sat down with God and opened an old photo album? My talks with God are usually about the present and the future. But God is the God of the past, too. I think sometime this week I’ll intentionally sit down and walk through the photo album of my life with God. Perhaps I’ll discover new blessings found in the past. But, I believe that even if I don’t find hidden blessings, God the parent will enjoy the chat.